What if Midlife Crisis Man is actually the true man that we’ve long since forgotten?

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I have just purchased my first motorbike, and I have recently turned 40.
Initially, I imagined that these two events were entirely unrelated, but
increasingly I am beginning to suspect that they are not.

Only yesterday, as I glimpsed my own reflection in a plate-glass shop front,
all head-to-toe in bad-boy leathers and biker boots, like a flush-faced
Terminator, I found myself gasping, “Holy Schwarzenegger! Look at me! Look
at what I have become! I am Midlife Crisis Man!”

And it’s not just the bike. Barely a month ago I drifted into a tattoo parlour
in Notting Hill. It was